A Mutation Apart
by Malus Ex Machina
Summary: *REMASTERED* Set in the Fallout universe before the events of Fallout 2 and onwards. This story follows the hardships and trials of a mutant survivor of the Great War, Milla, as she encounters the cruelty of slavery, survival, and love in the Wastes.
1. Burning Eyes Finds The Mad Dog

**As promised, here is the remastered version of AMA. I hope you all will enjoy it in it's new state and of course continue to review and read the work. I have two more projects in the works related to the story, which will come after this revised project. If you are a newcomer or a fan of 2M2M, I encourage and hope you'll take the time to read and enjoy _A Mutation Apart_ and of course, review if you'd like. In the future, be on the lookout for a second part to this story and possibly a prequel if everything works out.**

**Of course, this is a work of fan appreciation and is in no way a self-claim or original work. The works and canon of the Fallout series, specifically FO2, are the sole property and creation of Obsidian Entertainment, Bethesda Softworks, and of course Tim Cain and the other creators of the series. I in no way or form intend this for self-promotion or profit, only a work of appreciation.**

**So with the legality out of the way, here is the remastered _A Mutation Apart_. Enjoy!**

**- JessKa89, 06.11.2011 (Excuse the date, I'm on PST/GMT -8, we're perpetually later than the rest of the world.)**

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><p><strong>I: Burning Eyes Finds The Mad Dog<strong>

_June, 2223: Junktown _

* * *

><p>Milla tried to get the glare of the dry sun out of her eyes as she walked through the gates of Junktown.<p>

_Two days already… That little peeve better be here, I'm too old for this hunting business. _

She cleared her head with a swig from her canteen. Rick had obviously really wanted this guy alive enough to punish, in her supplies he'd given her purified water. Not the usual irradiated sludge, though, being in a bottle was a plus from the days she had to drink it out of streams. Like a beast, but that was ancient history by now.

_At least little Amanda will act a bit better, dear god, she'll be three already… Ok, I need to focus. Where'd he be in this glorified crap pile?_

She checked herself before traveling further. Each settlement in the California wasteland seemed to give a different peek into the human condition. Junktown, was no exception. It had its own style of _justice_, one that wouldn't look to kindly on her business if she still had her weapons out, or if she tried to make a move. She quietly tucked everything out of obvious view and continued with a nod at the guards around the gate. One of them gave recognition by a gruff cough instead.

Milla sighed, put down the small pack she carried and held out her arms to show she was clean, well, relatively. If she wanted to go through the trouble of making it easier, she could've disguised herself as a trader. In the end, she was here for one reason only and there were few who could haggle like a trader in Junktown. Instead, she dealt in a different type of business.

"A'right, she's straight. Just remember the rules: No guns out unless you have a good goddamn reason to, and _we_ determine that in the end. Ok, enjoy your stay and -"

The guard had lost himself for a brief moment when he caught a full look at Milla's face, well, specifically her eyes. They had never been the same after that one day when she woke up to the fluorescent blue, cold, and inhuman orbs glaring back at her in a water barrel and her insides felt like they were racing under her skin. She'd learn to accept it with time and that others couldn't, or not at first. Another guard gave a bump to the first and he composed himself back to his script.

"And… take care here in Junktown. _With whatever the hell's wrong with you_…"

He muttered the last words under his breath, still starring at her eyes while he went back to his station. She shrugged her gear back in place. It always was the same with everyone new. It didn't matter if it was a human, ghoul, super mutant, or bloody deathclaw, the stare was the same.

She continued on through and kept invisible as much as she could. Not that anything messy was going to happen and she'd need stealth, but so the traders wouldn't be breathing down her neck. Milla certainly didn't give off the air of wealth, but in this place that didn't matter. If you weren't packed with loads of scrap on your back, or huddled on a heap of old world scavenge, then you were a target for sale. The way the caravans swarmed around the few larger establishments, the way the traders eyed up prospective customers. It all reminded her of how she got to this state, hunting down men for slavers, going out on patrol, guarding his _royal slaver excellence_, Rick, like a dog.

She had been lined out, by herself, to all but a few of Saul's most trusted VIP's, men who groveled to him in turn, and stuck out for sale as if she was a sports car from before the War. She didn't know how she let herself get into that. At first when Saul and his men picked her broken body out of the Waste they could've seen she wasn't just a normal human, or at least dead and left her there. It seemed crazy even, that they went through the trouble of killing off the remaining super mutants, who'd hadn't grown as tired as their friends in poking her body around.

By this point in her life though, she'd come to recognize that there were many types of scavengers in the Wastes. No matter how high on the food chain Saul was, slavers of any rank just knew the worth of bone, blood and muscle. It didn't matter if they were half-dead, mutated or not, they still were worth something to someone.

She wasn't like the other slaves Rick happened to keep for himself though and was 'granted' the benefit of indentured service. A contract even, for the _trouble _of carrying her body back to Saul's little kingdom and nursing her back to relative health before setting her out to the infamous Task. The make-or-brake of a top shelf slave. Saul words still floated around in her head after all these years.

_'…Just to prove your market value, girlie… who knows, you might even earn some freedom…_'.

If she was mad enough, she would've attacked them all there if she could without a care to her life, but she still cared enough about survival then to go along with it. After the Task, it was just apathy. She'd retreated into herself as far as she could and didn't care anymore if it meant she'd never have to.

But then, she met little Amanda, who shelled out and made her recognize what of her heart was left.

Milla went first to the side of the bar, if she knew the target, he'd be thirsty now. Slavers, even former ones who'd managed to _civilize_ themselves, worked like clockwork. They may've had fun when the boss let them out loose to scout or terrorize the local populace, but when they were back at base, there was no freedom. They fell into place or were simply executed, there was no room for weakness. She looked up as the lights outside flickered dimly in the grimy bulbs and waited for a few more people to shuffle by before stepping in. There were no grand, cowboy entrances in her job description… even if Amanda liked to invent stories of Milla being some mysterious force of wasteland justice at the end of the day when she looked after her.

Milla slipped into a corner and made herself known to one of the waitresses, just enough so she wouldn't be too mysterious and beg attention. There were no television dramas in the world anymore, so people generally took the liberty to be nosey enough to make up their own. If that meant someone had their brains shot out in the canteen after a scuffle about who looked like a Brahmin's ass, so be it.

" Anything for you sis'?"

Milla kept her eyes out of view and replied quickly, "Just a shot of vodka, I won't be long."

The waitress shifted a little and sighed, obviously hearing the line all day and wrote it down in the usual mechanical fashion.

"'Kay, but don't hold it against me later if you change your mind, because that's what everyone says. Then they start livin' here." She replied with a welcome chuckle.

Milla gave a little smirking laugh in recognition, "Don't worry, I have a bottle back home if I need to drown in it, this is just a social visit."

Shaking her head a bit the waitress walked off and soon came back with her order, then Milla was left alone to scan the room.

The guy was the usual sort, an ex-slaver who'd somehow managed to retire with his head still on his shoulders, except he still owed Rick for a few debts and decided to make the not-so lucky move by running off before he could collect them. Now it was Milla's turn to retrieve his body, so Rick could collect his head. His name was Baker, who'd somehow managed to make it all the way through his career without having to change it into a more ridiculously acceptable slaver title. Instead he was known for working on a more awe-inspiring reputation, one that Milla had witnessed a few times over the years to know that even with his new freedom he wouldn't be flaunting it around. It'd make the job a lot less amusing for her and everyone else in the bar, but in the end all that mattered was getting Baker back relatively alive enough to pay up.

She found him eventually, sitting smartly near the center of the bar and casually talking with the bartender. If he knew he was being followed, he was well aware being his usually reserved self wasn't going to keep him alive. He also would've guessed no one sent after would be stupid enough to go after him in plain sight. She was growing a bit frustrated by the third hour of watching him trying to be sociable, but she let it only fuel her determination in catching him. Ironically, in one of his own old set of chains that he smugly left behind for Rick. She looked up to see the bartender growing thankfully weary as well and eventually he drifted off to other distractions, leaving Baker open.

His glass was empty, the bartender was close but wanted no more to do with him, he couldn't keep a waitress distracted for himself without pissing off the drunken regulars, and Milla knew he'd have to eventually piss _sometime_ with that belly full of booze. To her aid, alcohol usually did have the universal affect of sending everyone to the toilet sooner than later and Baker eventually with nothing else on his mind, had to answer the call of nature.

_Interesting, I've never caught anyone in the toilet before. I wonder what story Amanda will make out of this…_

Baker snuck in his own characteristically direct way outside to one of the toilets out back, and with any luck he'd either be alone or frustrated and waiting outside. Milla got up, paid for her drink, and gently followed his footsteps around the building. Even though there wasn't much for light, anyone could tell by smell that the toilets gave off enough methane to rival a Brahmin herd. Thankfully there wasn't a line. She gave a sigh of relief to the thought of additionally dealing with the all too friendly and vomiting drunk who might still be inside, and instead waited with chains and short club in hand for when Baker made his appearance to the world. There was shuffling inside, but Baker didn't exit as he was supposed to and instead seemed to flop down when he was finished.

_What the fuck? He has to do both? That's it, I don't have time to waste for him to go through all the numbers and then decide to wank off too. Sorry Baker, you're numbers' up…_

Milla scanned the outside one more time then darted out for the door, to reveal Baker with one foot down the hole of the toilet and the rest of him angling in for escape.

"You've got to be kidding me… Seriously now Baker, that's low, even for you. Do you even know how far you would've made it down in there before I came along, or were you expecting someone to come by and shit on you to cover up? Anyways, you're coming with me. It's just business, you'd understand."

Baker reacted immediately by pushing his dangling foot at the top of the toilet so he could grab the pistol hidden at his other side, but it slipped instead on the rim and he crashed through the flimsy door into the ground. Milla was on him in a second with the small club made especially by slavers for subduing targets and chains in one hand which Baker spotted wide eyed through the knuckles of her other.

"Those are mine you bitch! Get the fuck off of me, I'm through with Rick and his shit, I paid up, I'm fre-"

Milla gave a swift thwack at the back of his head through the fighting, but even unconscious Baker's teeth still managed to cling on her arm like a mad dog and gritting her teeth in reply she jarred them off before completely tying him up. He managed to bite through her skin, but not enough to bleed, only to cause her blood instead to blister around the marks. Before leaving Junktown at sunset when the gates were closed, she cleaned off the wound as best as she could, but she knew it would leave a scar.

When Amanda would ask about it, she'd say she fought a vicious and mutated bear-dog monster to keep it from attacking the good citizens of Junktown. Amanda would giggle with excitement as she always did, even if they both knew she was making it up. She was only five, but even a slaver's daughter knew by then what people like Milla were enforced to do. Milla at least would try to be a hero for her stories before bedtime, it was the only normality they both could genuinely have to themselves.


	2. A Servant Sees Behind The King

**II: A Servant Sees Behind The King**

_Two Weeks Later: The Compound, Adin Mountains, California_

_little sister there's blood on the tracks, _

_and a lit cigarette but you're not coming back, _

_to a town that was built on black gold and iron hearts._

_- The Builders and The Butchers_

* * *

><p>She threw him down in a pen nearest Rick's personal rooms, he wouldn't have to be marched far before Rick personally finished the deed. Baker made a groggy moan as he woke in the dirt, the first conscious reply he'd made since Milla carried him on one of Rick's pack Brahmins. She would've dragged his body behind her even to make things less complicated, but he made it clear Baker was to be in one piece. Something she couldn't <em>completely<em> guarantee dragging him through the dirt and what else.

Jobs like these were the few times she didn't have to put up with the taunting and all around chauvinism of her slaver counterparts and any chance to humble or at least humiliate them was a sweet tasting justice. She still was, technically speaking, a slave as much as those who cooked, entertained, broke down rocks, made coal, and cleaned Rick's Brahmin pens. The only exception that, she had the _liberty _of contracted work as much as Andrew, the ghoul bartender who though a freeman in a sense, still owed rent and other debts directly to Rick.

It was this relative freedom that Rick's slavers despised about her and in their own servitude were jealous of, which they channeled by easily attacking her flaws, her mutated _problems_. Like similar humans who had been marked by mutation in other ways, ghouls especially, she learned to let the words and abuses wash over her, but that didn't mean she couldn't toy with them as well.

"Sleep tight you big ass, Rick will want to see you soon enough."

After checking the lock one more time Milla turned on the old cattle fencing that ran across the top, only a quarter of the way since Rick demanded he was alive enough to see him take his head off. With that she went to let the _King _know his present was here.

Coming back into familiar territory, no matter it was a hive of slavers, put her walk at ease, but her eyes and ears were sharp for the patter of little feet. Amanda would be looking for her, but no matter how quiet the little girl was made to be over the years, she always belted out laughter and surprise seeing Milla return. She never knew why and what was the first reason Amanda grew so attached to her, but over the first few years Milla had been under Rick's control she'd grown to accept and enjoy the offer to be the closest thing Amanda knew of a mother. Knowing this, Amanda would've been anywhere, waiting to surprise her as only five year-old little girls can.

"_Bwarrr_! I catch you Bright Eyes! Me make you come with me now!"

Milla was immediately cornered in front of Rick's door by a very small, but fearsome super mutant with gigantic claws.

"Ach! No, don't take me! There's a little human I know who'll make a better solider in your super mutant army, or maybe, a stew!"

Expecting another attack, instead Milla watched Amanda's _claws _flop down to stand on her hips and received a wee scoff instead.

"Pfft, I'm not _just_ a super mutant! I'm a _deathclaw-_super mutant, I have claws! See!" Amanda replied by showing off her claws again and didn't give up until Milla joined in too along with some tickling fits of giggles as well.

"Well, guess what I have besides claws, from my trip to Junktown this time? A mad-dog bite too!"

Milla yanked the bandage down far enough to show the start of Baker's final attempt at freedom.

"Ooh! What happened Milla? Did it hurt anyone else? Was it big? Did - did it have fangs with blood _dripping_ down them instead of drool and rolling eyes?"

"Of cours- Wait? Where'd you ever get an idea like that from?"

"Oh, it just reminds me of a story Andrew made up for me yesterday when he was opening the bar and I was following Lila around."

Milla gave a chuckle at Amanda's frankness and the idea of her _following_ the cook around. It was a well known fact that Lila, despite like many others enslaved in the settlement, took a great pride in her position and her recipes which she forbade any of the other slaves from helping her prepare in the beginning, and only assist in mundane kitchen tasks. The thought of tiny Amanda stalking Lila around just to see her face sour and grow territorial at the sight of a little girl never failed to amuse her.

"I figured it was him, I'm just waiting for you to hear a story that'll really scare you. Even for monsters like me."

With all the courage that Amanda could find at the moment she folded her arms and raised her head then replied, "I'm not afraid of stories, they're just made up things. Besides, the only really scary stories are the one's you're in because, you know what _real _monsters look like and what the other ones are afraid of. Besides Milla, you're not a monster, you're _my _monster so that's okay."

"Okay, okay then, you've convinced me. I'll see you in a bit, I have to go meet the head monster to let him know I'm back with his present."

"'Kay, but you better come back and tell me what you did, so we can make a story. See yah at dinner!"

Amanda as any five year-old, finished her words as she ran off to continue playing before the daylight was up. Milla would have never called Rick even something as mild mannered as a monster with anyone else in the settlement, but she could trust Amanda. Not just because she was a child, but because she was well aware what business her father worked in and how other people saw him as one. Milla took another breath before opening the door to face her boss and the owner of her contract, she just hoped none of his men decided to piss him off previously today and spoil the moment. 

* * *

><p>Rick was sitting at an old and gnarled desk, that even though from before the War, still held the air of the room in a business-like grip of authority. He was doing some trivial accounting with various bags of caps and noticed her existence by clearing his throat.<p>

"I found the mad-dog in Junktown. He's caged in one of the solitary pens with the jolt set on one-quarter. Groggy, but otherwise intact."

Rick shifted quietly in his chair and placed the caps in his hand down, before looking at her directly. He was one of the two men she knew who could look directly into her mutated eyes that seemed to burn in the dim room. He'd learned it as few others could from his new commander, Saul, whom everyone besides Rick referred to as the _Almighty_. Unlike Saul, he kept his _humor_ clean from his business, but he never muttered a joke anyways and instead took a strange interest in the minute details of patrols and capture. As if he was an aesthete for human despair.

"Where did he decide to escape to, eventually?" Rick spoke in a soft but firm inquiry.

"I followed him to one of the toilets behind the bar. He was trying to escape down the hole." Milla replied likewise.

She learned from observation of less fortunate slavers that Rick was the only one who decided to laugh.

He smirked a little at first and then gave a short guttural laugh that was almost lost in his mouth and nose. He then rose from the desk and stood before her with his hands behind his back, as if he was trying to hide a present. He wore a slight smile as he continued.

"Well, that's a surprise to me, and certainly to you, I can imagine. Oh how far you've fallen Baker, but not _quite _far enough yet… As always Milla, you've done an excellent job." He paused to recollect before going on.

"You've really come a long ways since Saul found you almost wild, out there in the Wastes… but I always knew you were different than the idiots I have swarming around here. Anyways, I will note and deduct your services for this little run from what you owe, as always, in full confidence. I give you the rest of the day to spend as you please and I shall call for you when I need you again. Otherwise you may resume your previous posts here."

Milla nodded and went to leave as she came in, then Rick broke the silence once more.

"And… Thank you for looking after Amanda. I know it is not drawn up in your contract, but as she's gotten older and more -"

Rick seemed to paused to catch his breath, even though he was barely breathing when he spoke anyways.

"Noticeably lively, almost like her mother was… It's been hard to simply entrust her rearing to everyone in the settlement. I prefer that she remain under the eyes of someone who works closely to me, but not involved directly with the business. I hope you understand?"

Milla had turned to see an almost noticeable softening in his face. Discussing Amanda always did this to him, but he never allowed any other to discuss his daughter in his presence. It made Milla pity the other slaves who managed Amanda before she had arrived, whom of which for this reason were very few or alive.

"Yes." She replied directly.

Rick nodded and waved her to the door. Outside Milla felt more freedom to breathe. No matter how many times Milla had to address Rick before and knew the routine, whenever he seemed to crack in his method and speak of his daughter or late wife, the air in the room felt as constricted as it did the first time she completed a job. It just always seemed he was one step from the ledge of relative sanity, or fully in control of another he'd invented to deal with the loss of his wife and Amanda was simply a gnat that continued to sting his mind.

Milla rubbed her mind and walked off to find Amanda before she'd be put to bed, she still had a story to help with after all.


	3. Where The Rain Dogs Call Home

**III: Where The Rain Dogs Call Home**

_A Month Later: The Compound_

_When I was a boy the moon was a pearl,_

_The sun a yellow,_

_when I was a man the wind blew cold,_

_The hills were upside down._

_But now that I have gone from here there's no place I'd rather be,_

_Than to float my chances on the tide back in the good old world. _

_- Tom Waits_

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><p>"Milla… You're showing again."<p>

"Hrm, what?"

" You know, your condition… Your skin's blotching out blue again. Sorry to be blunt, but you're looking like one of those damn geckos. When was the last time you took some radaway anyways?"

Even though Andrew was a bartender by trade, he never seemed to shrug off the natural inquisitiveness of being a man or _ghoul _of medicine. Milla, being a mutant, and a rather _fascinating specimen _as Andrew would say when he forgot himself in his thoughts, never failed to provide a source of study for him. She just thought he was nagging all the time, but having someone who was familiar with the downsides of mutation proved to be a definite upside. Nonetheless she suffered through his scientific prodding. He was the closest thing she had to a friend in the whole damn place.

"Ah… The last time, I um, had to be stitched up or something. Yeah. I'm guessing I should pop some Radaway sometime soon. I mean, it doesn't hurt me, my hair's not going fall out of my skull, it's - "

Andrew shook his head and cut her off, "It's just going to put your body through a lot of stress, and who knows what else. You'll probably end up looking like a damn blueberry in a few days, you remember what blueberries look like, _riiiight_?"

He capped off his retort with a smirk. There wasn't many souls left in the world who remembered a verdant world before the bombs, but Andrew always took the liberty to dig up the old world around a fellow survivor.

"Of course I know what a goddamn blueberry is, I mean, _was_. Fine _Doctor _Andrew… I'll watch my rads, take my Radaway and come in for your miracle healing. I still think it's a gold-shot on me though, but hell, I have lifetimes to see what happens."

"Good." He tried to appear serious through his folded arms of fleshless sinew and hardened muscle, but they both knew he was laughing and full of a little pride inside.

Milla was one of the only people who knew he had been experimenting with regular stimpak injections and radaway, trying to improve their all-around effectiveness, and maybe even dream of stopping radiation sickness in it's tracks. It was a very big dream, but it managed to keep his mind off how much of a shithole his life had been out in the Wastes, and still was in Rick's little kingdom.

Amanda, hanging her head from the side in boredom peeped up as if almost on cue.

"What's a… blueberries?"

Andrew snorted like only a ghoul can, as he lifted her up on the counter towards the both of them, and gave a sad smile.

"They're something from before the big War. You know what that was, right? Why everything is so barren, why there's radiation in everything? Why… why I'm a ghoul?"

Amanda puzzled her face a little in concentration, it was hard even for old men in the world to imagine this concept of before, that there was ever anything that wasn't a Wasteland.

"I kinda do. Milla told me about it when she first told me stories. When she was little, like me. Then the really good stories, about the _Northern _Waste… Where the dried forests are, where they have the fog and sometimes, the rain, and the big, _big_ animals and the monsters too! How she met the _wild_ men… It's _different_."

Amanda ended her list with wide eyes of curiosity. Milla's time in the North, after the bombs fell and how she eventually made it to what was left of 'California' were always her favorite stories. Things that anyone else from the region would take for granted, little Amanda noted as a tribal venerated spirits and gods. The tribals who took Milla in when she was all but an animal herself at first living on her own, were Amanda's favorite cast of characters, probably because they were Milla's as well.

After leaving the bunker in the deep of the wilderness, as many others had desperately tried before the War, she hadn't known what to do and for almost fifty years she gradually taught herself by watching the animals around her. It seemed no matter how charred and twisted nature had become, it had all but forgotten man's presence and dominance. The new earth that emerged from out of the mountainside bunker was her Eden, but she knew eventually she'd have to leave. If not for the simple reason to explore, to save her gradually crumbling mind. The solidarity was taking its toll on her sanity, and she was lucky enough to admit it. In the years that followed she'd come face to face with many who could've been her, and it was one of the few things she truly feared in this new world.

"Those are good examples, but I think our Milla had it a bit different from ghouls like me. Radiation, the thing that makes the water bad and keeps anything from really growing, that's what happened to me. I'm like the ground, I'm still here and alive, but I have too much radiation in me to keep, to make anything live. Do you kind of understand?"

Amanda young face tendered with a sagely frown, "So that's why you don't have hair, or a lot of skin, and no…nose but your holes, like a lizard. That's why Da's men are bad to you, because you lost things and can't get them back. You can't be normal again."

Andrew gave a small smile and nodded his head. It was a look Milla had seen on countless other ghouls, a silent assurance that they at least, weren't in denial about their state.

"S'ok, Andrew. I still like you because you know how to tell _really_ good stories and how to make people feel better. Only _really _good people know how to do that."

Amanda ended her speech by giving him a hug on the arm, as only five year-olds knew how to make meaningful.

"Do you still want to know what a 'blueberries' is?" Milla said with a chuckle.

"Of course! It must be really good if you're going to turn into one. So what is it?"

Andrew snorted trying to hold a laugh down at her frankness to which Milla gave him a light cuff on the shoulder.

"Quit it, I'll take the damn meds, I promise… Anyways, it's called a 'blueberry' when there's only one, and when you have a bunch they're called 'blueberries'. They were, here-"

Milla looked around the counter of the bar for a pen, but found a scrap of charcoal left from a slaver's game of some deranged form of tic-tac-toe. She then found one of the bluest splotches on her right arm and drew a small circle, with a star-shape top and a 'x' on the bottom.

"There, that's what a blueberry looked like. They came from bushes. Kind of like the ones you see dried up around here, but they had little shiny leaves. Blueberries were kind of sweet and mushy."

"They're mutfruit?"

"Yeeah, sort of."

"Oh, okay. They sound good. But you should get fixed up so you don't turn into them. I like you the way you are now."

"Okay, okay. I will, but I need you to get to bed first. You've managed to stay up late again by making us old muties dribble on about the past, but it's time for my clever little human to get some sleep, okay?"

Amanda gave a whining sigh, "_Okay_, but you'll have breakfast with me before you work on top of the Wall tomorrow, right?"

Milla scooped up her tired little body and turned from the counter, waving goodbye to Andrew on her way out.

"Of course I will bumblebee, someone has to make sure you do. Say goodnight to Andrew."

"Good night Andrew."

"See you later Amanda, and you make sure that big blueberry comes in afterwards for her medicine too, ok?"

Amanda giggled into Milla's shoulder, "Ok."

Milla stepped out the doorway with her sleepy little charge to leave Andrew alone with the smoky and dim room. A slaver in the corner who hadn't managed to fall asleep into his glass, or let the dangling cigarette burn his lips yet raised his head up and barked at him with a squint.

"Hey zombie, 'nuther glass of pisswater over here."

Andrew paused in a mid-wipe with his rag on the counter, then glided over to refill his glass.

"_That's _it…and don't cheat me with that fuckin' shit that's watered down. I know you bartenders are all alike. Greedy little bastards, takin' advantage of poor honest drunk sods like me."

Andrew of course, didn't say anything and just held up a grimy bottle of regular whiskey, waiting for approval. So far the slaver was being relatively gracious in his compliments and hadn't even reminded him he was a ghoul yet. All smooth skins needed to do that eventually, since they were convinced Andrew hadn't seen a mirror for the past century.

"Yeah, that's it. Pour me that."

Looking it over then finishing it down, the slaver ruffled through his pockets and left five caps as he staggered to his feet.

"See? Honesty. That's… That's something you don't see anymore. Those kids who keep bein' hired, don't have no respect for guys like me. You, you're _tooo _good. A _god _of bartenders!"

The sagging frame of the aged slaver suddenly sprung up in revelrie to some hidden audience, but the remaining men passed out in the darkness were deaf to it. Andrew picked up his glass and gave a sigh of mixed relief. At least he didn't fire off his pistol into the ceiling this time.

"Goodnight, Smokey Joe."

"Yeah-"

Smokey paused for an incoming belch, not sure whether he was going to make it out the door or chunder in the ghoul's face.

"You too." He finished in simple relief.

Andrew watched him finally leave before closing up and gave another sigh. He found the charcoal bit Milla had used earlier and rolled it in his hand under the greasy light, then put it up behind the alcohol in an old cigarette box before finally drifting off to bed himself.

* * *

><p>Milla watched the syringe poke into her arm as the amber-like liquid inside slowly flooded into her veins. She wasn't afraid of needles, but she always had to watch while they were being injected, as if something would go horribly wrong at the last minute.<p>

Andrew had injected countless arms for countless ailments and kept his face in a stoic concentration as always, but the way Milla's phosphorus and critical eyes always watched over his, made his concentration drift to stare back at her. As if they were two hawks watching each other after the same prey.

"You know, you don't make it easier on yourself looking like that." He muttered after finishing the injection.

"Ok, you've made it clear for the hundredth time already. Watch. My. Rads."

"No, that's not… Nevermind."

"No what?"

Milla's eyes had changed with the expression on her face Even if he tried to explain it now she'd never understand what he meant. Andrew cleaned off her arm with a swipe of alcohol and put the blood sample he'd gotten from her earlier away to be analyzed later. Since most of her radiation seemed to accumulate that way, he assumed it was something that was similar to humans, but he needed more tests to figure anything for sure.

"That look you get on your face, with the needle... When you are, I dunno, concentrating and watching, I guess. It's kind of creepy. I just keep imagining Rick's men finding it a reason to give you shit and all that." He tried busying himself with empty syringes in the corner, waiting for something other than an awkward silence, but was jinxed as Milla simply hopped off the table and walked past. The light above started to buzz as if on queue, until she swept the air clean with a somewhat stale reply.

"Oh… I never noticed that to be honest. I guess I just drift in my mind from time to time."

Andrew could only silently curse himself as he turned towards her now, but found her smirking the moment he did. He could only raise an eyebrow at the thought of her hearing his thoughts. Some things seemed too far fetched to imagine, even for mutants.

"Don't worry about everything else though, they give me shit anyways for being a woman and being a _contracted_ slave, my mutation is the least of it." She replied, again clearing out any awkwardness.

"Well, there's that new girl hired on last year, 'Cali Rose' or whatever the hell her name is. I guess she might deflect some of that."

"Pfft, Andrew, you don't really know women. Forming some sort of _sisterhood _is the last thing on her mind, I'm just another obstacle in her way to the top as much as the guys. The irony of it is I can't be a part of the rat race if I wanted to."

"I have to admit, sometimes its easy to forget you're a slave… Or for Rick I guess, convenient."

"I'd take that as a thank you, if you weren't in a deeper bit of contracted bullshit yourself."

"Yeah… Thanks for trying to lighten the blow there, but I'm old enough to know I brought most of that on myself. You though… It's not self denial or anything just-"

He stopped as Milla's eyes were narrowed in slight. Andrew dropped anymore helpful ideas before he had her ripping the clinic door off in anger. He only ventured so far because it was the truth in her complacentcy. Anyone else with such a mind as hers would've busted for freedom by now, but here she remained. Then there was Amanda. He was reminded again of that tangled web between slave boss, daughter and slave.

Andrew lowered his head and patted a friendly hand on her icy shoulder.

"Sorry."

She gave a slight smile in reflex before replying as if nothing happened. He was thankful for that at least."As for Cali and the rest, the jobs Rick keeps sticking me in put me damn close to the top, which will always be in her way. I never ask for it, but there I am."

"How do you know that? He seems to think you're good enough for everything else."

"A slave out on a mission to collect slaves? It doesn't make any sense Andrew, no matter how brainwashed and loyal you can make someone. Besides, Saul the _Almighty _would shit lighting on Rick's head if he even mentioned it."

"Alright, sorry I asked…Okay, you're finished here. I better let you go back to watching the Wall. There's been some rumor going around the bar at night of a group of raiders ambushing slave caravans. They attack like they have an insider with them since they always know where the old routes go through. Apparently, they've raised enough hell to get his own Almighty irritated, so he's had all of the routes changed for the time being and the scouting parties larger. Kind of leaves home base open though… So, maybe you'll get some practice in today."

Andrew chuckled a little as he got ready to prepare the bar for that night.

"Oh thanks. Thanks a lot. Now I'll have to actually _do_ my job, and swat flies all day like a tail on this big Brahmin's ass of a settlement… See you around then."

Andrew gave a wave before turning for the bar's back door, his mind resigned to the idea that Milla's thinking was something he'd have to learn to work with.

Milla left through the clinic and climbed one of the many rusted scrap ladders to the metallic monstrosity that was simply known as the _Wall_. Many slaves who pasted under it for the first time looked as if they were entering a ring of hell, which Milla couldn't blame them for as the morning sun seemed to magnify the stains of blood-red rust that curtained over it.

* * *

><p>There was already several others who were joining her with all means of weapons in hand, but all of them carried the standard slaver favorite of an R91 assault rifle and to each his or her own modifications and pet name for their best friends. Milla preferred instead her own modified hunting rifle. It may have had less of a magazine, but she preferred accuracy over just gutting an enemy with lead spray. There was also her steel spear, which glared out arcane amongst all of the modern weaponry, but it was one of the handful of things she actually owned for herself. Rick saw no reason to waste his resources re-equipping anyone who came with their own toys. If they fought enough with something to keep themselves alive and to his disposal, so be it. It was her treasure, the only thing she had that was almost as old as her and had seen the insides of many different bellies. When all else failed to bring something or someone down, she always fell back to her own creation.<p>

After changing guard on the Wall and loading up with new magazines, everyone turned to their respective directions as faces on a totem pole. Milla was thankful that this job however mundane, kept everyone in their place. She really didn't feel up to dealing with slinging shit with the rest of them and hoped the raider rumors kept them occupied throughout the day. Though, after staring into the distance of the waste for six hours, her neighbor to the east was growing antsy, as was everyone else. Milla looked up to see it was Black Jack walking over from the right and she gave out a groan before composing herself, trying to find _anything_ else to focus on in the dusty landscape.

"No luck either, huh?" He announced after taking a long drag off his cigarette.

Out of all the self-assured assholes in Rick's employ, Black Jack was the only one who managed to get under her skin. Something she tried to hide as stoically as possible, but even if she didn't say a word he knew she was angry and he _lived_ for it. She just squinted her eyes in an excuse to focus, but he knew it was his own invitation to continue on.

"_Awuh_, nothing to say to me? C'mon, we're friends. Even if you don't think so I want you to know…no matter what the other dickheads around here say, I think you're as worthy as the rest of us and that contract business means no difference. It's just circumstance, y'know? We're all here for one reason or another, workin' for the big guy."

He leaned in towards the front of her face and raised his eyebrows with a pitiful smile.

Milla thought he looked like a puppy after pissing on the floor, who continued to dribble all over as he went up to beg forgiveness. She did everything not to laugh at the image, he'd only take it as a sign to continue.

"You're blocking my view."

"Ooh! That was harsh now! Besides, if you're thinking about those raiders I wouldn't bother with it. I heard from Tin Man when he got back from the new routes, that some of Saul's own personal bodyguards wiped their asses clean off the Wastes with a row of buried mines and missile launchers. Poor bastards made the mistake of holdin' out by that old gas station out South, whole place went up like a roman candle! I'd like to see a group of stupid ass kids take on this and Saul's place. They may have enough crazy between them all to try, but it doesn't win a war, y'know? Even if they had some insider-"

Black Jack only continued with his rant as he noticed she was growling in annoyance. He smiled for the extra effect.

"…Personally, I think taking raiders as slaves is a waste of all our fucking time. It's like tryin' to tame a centaur, you never know what way their heads are gonna go and they can't work worth shit. I'm not the only one who thinks this, mind you, and I think Saul might change his policies after this little episode. Which will mean more fun for us popin' these idiots in the long run."

Milla blinked and gave him a curt reply, "Sounds like another waste of ammo to make the effort of killing them out on runs, just saying… _Personally_."

Black Jack gave a little sigh, it was still too much fun for him.

"Why so serious all the time? I mean, yeah you're still a slave under that contract, but Rick really seems to treat you a lot better than most of us older crew even. Don't _worry_ so much, you need to relax or you're head gonna spin marbles…"

Milla drifted her eyes over the landscape again to try and ignore him and as if some miracle, a speck and then a few more gradually appeared out in the Wastes. They were crawling across wildly but were definitely headed for the settlement. Despite the madness, it was plain their only intent was organizing for an attack.

Over the years raiders had never failed to provide some fascination to her. They and she both knew they had nothing going for them in the near future of the Wasteland and always wanted to go out in some excitement. Still, when that time came, there wasn't enough chems or booze in the world to erase that primal fear of death. No matter what anyone else said, she'd at least argue that raiders still had the purest form of humanity left in was the distraction she'd been waiting for all day and out of the peripheral view, she could see the other slavers agreeing with raised rifles. Only Black Jack seemed oblivious for the moment, as he was gently pawing at her shoulder in some failed attempt of a flirtatious massage.

Milla watched in her scope for one of the growing specks and gave a wry smile letting them grow larger until their head rested snuggly in the crosshairs of her rifle. With that she let the bullet release to blast open the side of a raider's head. Just enough so the butt of the rifle sticking up smacked Black Jack in the face, which had joined his hand in vainly trying to caress her shoulder. He stumbled back holding the area between his brows. She'd like to see him catch up and shoot with the others now.

He scrambled for his rifle and gave her a painful glare, only to then realize the group of raiders heading their way.

"Holy shit, there's really raiders coming!"

Two others joined on Milla's side of the post, Garret and none other than their newest member, Cali Rose.

"No shit, Sherlock! Where've you been for the past five minutes? They're right in front and you haven't taken a single shot yet!" Cali Rose retorted while slamming in a new magazine.

Milla took aim again and snorted at the scene, conveniently as Cali Rose noticed Black Jack's new lump between his eyes. She laughed and gave Milla a pat on the back.

"Excellent work, honey. I was definitely wrong about you, slave or no, you can drink with _me_ anytime."

"Jack, Cali - Both of you shut the fuck up and get to your stations to back the boys up. Milla and I can hold this end down, now move it!" Garret roared at Milla's other side.

He may have been an asshole no different from the rest of them, but he was the only one she openly showed respect. He was Rick's right hand and even so, had taken the trouble to show her all the workings of the settlement and groomed her existing skills and experience into a vital element of Rick's personal army. To him it didn't matter if you were a slave of any degree, an extra gun was an extra gun, as long as it was under his command.

He grabbed another sniper rifle while the raiders were still far enough out and open. Then as if it was only natural, let a bullet fly for every exhale as he stood there before reloading again. Garret was the oldest slaver in the settlement and the only one remaining who'd help build the place. Simply looking at the scars the mapped his grizzled face showed he'd been with Rick since the beginning. While everyone else would be talking about this attack for another two weeks or so, it was just another few rounds for him. Just yet another group of nameless enemies caught in his crosshairs.

"You holdin' up alright doll?" He muttered to Milla between shots.

"Yep."

Garret gave a smile out of the corner of his mouth as he obliterated the cranium of another raider. Milla had learned over the years that Garret preferred sentences only if you had a damn good reason to be wasting his time.

"Good. You're not blue as a damn gecko either. I don't know anything about you mutants and rads, but I expect you to watch yourself like the rest. Especially if you wanna outlive all of us old bastards…"

"Crystal, commander."

Garret gave a short laugh and switched to his assault rifle, his darling Sally. Milla couldn't help but mock a coo at him for it.

"Hey now, cut the crap. You're not new meat, y'know… Watch to the left behind that dune. I don't like that pisser with the shotgun, he's eyeing his dead friends' launcher. We don't suffer smartasses like that, now do we?"

Milla reloaded her rifle and gave a wicked smile as the raider made a dart for the missile launcher.

"Of course not."

The raider flopped in mid-run and joined his comrade on the ground.

After another half-hour of firing Garret had most of them switch posts to the front of the settlement to catch any stragglers and of course, their weapons for themselves. Milla followed him down off the bridge of the Wall, watching him talking on an old and crippled two-way radio with Rick. He continued relaying the situation until Rick made all of them jump in surprise when he appeared, like a raven-haired apparition at the bottom of the gate. He was smirking at Garret, who was still standing with his radio in hand.

"You can stop talking into it Garret. I _am_ right here." He said calmly while loading his rifle, one of many and mysterious implements he worked on in his free time, all of which he cherished like prized heirlooms.

If Rick brought out one of these, it meant two things: His men would be having some real fun and that Saul was coming. The latter of which meant everyone's collective asses would be chewed out if the _fun_ didn't go as it was supposed to. Garret smiled at his oldest friend and cocked his rifle in reply.

"On your word, Rick."

The lean but silently intimidating man gave a deep and short laugh, then slit his cigarette.

"Sounds good to me, Garret.

- Boys and Girls, let's show these animals how _we_ play…"

With that Rick and Garret walked through the iron gates as their collective army shrieked and roared as a hungry beast, which was only amplified by the hollow metal doors. If they weren't already, Milla knew the remaining raiders either wounded or hiding were pissing their pants.

In passing thought, she just hoped they wouldn't stain any of the good armor that they might have on their bodies, she needed some new leathers.


	4. Saul Almighty Brings The Second Wind

**IV: Saul Almighty Brings The Second Wind**

_Same Day: The Compound_

_I know we're not saints or virgins or lunatics; […]_

_But our innocence goes awfully deep,_

_and our discreditable secret is that we don't know anything at all,_

_and our horrid inner secret is that we don't care that we don't._

_- Dylan Thomas_

* * *

><p>Amanda managed to crawl through one of the tiny holes that ran through parts of the Wall, just out of sight of any of the settlement slaves working on repairs or chores. Not that any of them were especially fond of her, but even if Rick never had his daughter in the same room let alone talked to her, they knew that if she were to disappear or get lost in the Wastes he'd string every one of them up until she was returned. The dirt and loamy sand felt cool and silky inside the metal monstrosity and she was almost tempted to curl up and take a nap there, but she was on a mission.<p>

She'd heard the guns firing since noon and now she knew her father and his men were out collecting the spoils, and with any luck they'd be busy for an hour or so. Amanda also overheard one of the slavers in the camp mention that Saul was coming too. She couldn't miss seeing his men and him arrive, sticking out like a royal procession in the desolate landscape. He was called the _Almighty_ for a reason. Though, Amanda only knew him as being the odd type of adult who knew just what kids like her laughed at and the type who could make grown men shiver like frightened children. He always was nice to her when he visited her father, maybe he'd give her a gift this time, or something from _outside_. Finally she found a hole big enough to peep out of into the Wastes.

Even though it was late in the year, the air waved on the hot and barren landscape and letting her eyes adjust she quickly picked out the people she knew in the combing mass. Her father was walking steadily next to Garret, who was having fun shooting at raider stragglers as they darted out from behind bushes and dunes. She eventually found Milla slightly to the east, pulling her spear out of the belly of another raider, then as if strolling through a bazaar; she went along poking at different raiders' armor until she found something she liked. Black Jack, the slaver she knew Milla hated, was not far away, but instead was combing for weapon parts. Amanda thought he looked rather funny holding his forehead during all of this, as if he was going to vomit at the sight of it all.

She knew they were more than impassive to the necessary evil of their occupations. Being this far away and detached from it all made her as well. She certainly knew what a dying man sounded like, but she didn't always understand why. Only that some men, like the ex-slaver Baker, did things that got them killed.

His head was now sitting on a spike near the entrance of the settlement, as a reminder to everyone. Amanda didn't like to look at it, but the image of his head and many others that she'd seen over the years would rise in her mind whenever she thought of breaking the rules. She knew Milla would never do anything like that to her, or even her father, but if that's what happened to adults when they misbehaved she didn't want to start now.

"There's rules… for a reason… That's why we're not… animals", she muttered in syllable.

Closing her eyes and repeating the few direct words her father had given her in her short life, was like a charm to chase away the images of shriveled heads.

Amanda eventually grew bored with watching once the battle was over, since now everyone was regrouping and talking with Garret and her father. She jumped in place a bit to keep alert. Only knowing that if they were talking like that, then Saul would be there soon and they'd return. Eventually they did, and Amanda quickly went out the way she came. If she was caught by anyone in, let alone around the Wall, she'd be in more trouble than ever before. Baker's head shoved on a pike popped into her mind and she quickly darted out behind a stoop then joined into the fray of busy people before anyone would notice.

The settlement was like a hive as everyone scrambled to make the place gleam. Not that her father didn't keep an orderly and clean operation already, it was just the norm for whenever someone important was coming. Whether they liked it or not, Saul was the only important person in the world that day and anything less than perfection wasn't going to fly. Eventually the gates opened and more busy people began scrambling around with armfuls of weapons and gear, only Rick and Garret appeared unaffected as they got ready for Saul and situated themselves at the front of the settlement to greet their leader. Amanda was standing in wonder at everything when Milla came up behind her and picked her up. She shook a little in fright at first, and then hung her arms around Milla's neck.

"Sorry if I scared you sweet pup, but I was afraid you'd be run over with everyone racing around here. We should probably get you back to the house and ready for when Saul arrives."

"Did you find anything good out there, more than armor good?"

Amanda kept a sweet and still face. Hopefully Milla wouldn't bother with her intuition and point out her lie. She'd heard Smokey and Andrew once talk about how women had a way of always, eventually, knowing when you fibbed. They'd called it intuition. She still wasn't sure what it was exactly, since Milla often knew before she made up one anyways, but in any case the young girl deduced she was so good because she'd had forever to practice. As always though, Milla immediately saw through her words, but she didn't frown or get angry and just gave a sly smile.

"Well now, I may or may not have. Unless, there was a particularly good little set of eyes spying on me who might have seen this -"

Milla pulled out an old and tiny metal box that had an equally tiny crank at its side. There were strange bumps marking its insides and little metal teeth resting on them too.

Amanda's eyes widened in curiosity.

"What _is_ it?" she said in a whisper.

"It's a music box, from before the GreatWar. There used to be lots of them and you turned the handle to play a song. See the little teeth? The wheel moves against them and they _sing_ when they hit a bump. You have to turn it slow and steady though. I don't know if it still works so be careful.

I'll give it to you, but you have to promise to stay out of trouble when Saul comes. This was a busy day and he won't likely be very happy at all the trouble those raiders caused him. Okay?"

Amanda held the tiny metal box like a fragile butterfly and quickly nodded.

"Thank you! It's _so _pretty."

"Your welcome, sweetie. Now, you better hurry inside and put that in a safe place too. I don't know if Saul is going to stay long with your father, so don't worry about having to look too nice now. Just keep quiet in case of anything."

"Okay. See you later on, and let me know what happens too!"

"I will, I promise."

Milla watched her quickly dart inside and head off to her small room with her new toy. Giving a sigh, she turned back to the human tide of commotion that was finally started to slow down. She crossed the courtyard to join the other slavers, who were standing next to the pile of their spoils. In front of them sat Rick with his friend beside. Cali Rose was the first to break the silence next to her.

"I can't believe he's actually coming… Not just some of his lackeys, it's actually him."

Smokey Joe, one of the more seasoned slavers scoffed beside them.

"Eh, don't get your hopes up there honey. He'll come, say his bit in his own weird ass way, and then disappear to talk with Rick and ol'Garret. The luckiest you'll get is maybe with one of his bored guards if he plans are staying the night."

"I don't want to _fuck _him you old bastard! I just want to talk to him, maybe get a more exciting spot out on the routes. You know, the _big_ jobs."

Smokey rolled his yellowed eyes and put out his cigarette.

"Whatever, keep dreaming there darlin'. Not even if you were half as seasoned as Garret there would he even talk to you. Besides, there's a reason _why_ men like Garret stick with Rick. After a few more meat runs up to the Almighty's and you'll learn soon enough."

Cali Rose gave a scoff in return and muttered under her breath,

"…Like you know anything about him anyways."

Milla gave a smirk in Smokey's direction and looked back at the front of the gates. She just wanted to get this over with so she could repair some of her armor and maybe smirk at the handiwork on Black Jack's face.

Within a few minutes the guards at the top of the Wall began pulling on the old rusted alarm bells. Saul was here.

* * *

><p>"Well, well, gentlemen… and ladies -"<p>

Saul's booming voice paused for a moment and nodded towards Milla and the few other females standing in the crowd. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight. Saul would be awhile, as usual.

"I can't even tell you how grateful I am for your stellar performance today. With all the commotion these past few weeks spent on eradicating these vile excuses for human beings our business has taken somewhat of a downturn, but after today… I know, oh _I know_ we'll come back. Hopefully this shall be a lesson to raiders and other human animals everywhere, that Saul's boys and girls don't tolerate this, this _pitiful_ revenge…"

The crowd burst into fits of laughter and hollering. It had been revealed earlier in the week that the raider's informer had been caught and slowly killed, by laying their body out at Saul's front gates to be trampled by returning slaver and new slave alike. This way, they would realize the machine of human sale and suffering could not be stopped.

"…And as loyal, hard working and strong men and women I have known it no less than to well, y'know…"

Saul paused for effect and shrugged a little. Milla felt a sudden flashback to the old world, as if she was watching a politician parade across a television screen to the crowd. It took most of her control not to genuinely laugh and instead let her cheeks puff in a failed cough. Smokey's eyes darted in selfish concern. The last thing the old slaver needed was Saul's direct anger at being interrupted, and Smokey's lack of _correction_ by letting a slave get away with it."… Share some of my own spoils. So, I hope that all of you, my loyal family, every one of you - Enjoys these treasures. You've earned it."

Saul ended his speech with a flash of a smile and a wave of his hand towards two large Brahmin carts filled with weapons, parts, armor, alcohol, and every nearly imaginable grade of ammo. It was every slaver's wet dream.

As the spoils from the carts were distributed, Saul walked with his guards down to their level, with Rick at his side. Saul passed shortly within the crowd, uncharacteristically being friendly, shaking hands and greeting his subjects as he went. Eventually he made it to where Smokey, Milla and Cali Rose were standing near the back. Cali froze in a fanatical stupor when Saul came to shake her hand.

"I… I…" she stuttered in amazement.

Saul flashed a smile and laughed.

"Its okay babe, I understand. What's your name?"

"It's… I'm Cali. Cali Rose."

"Ooh, _nice_. Well, hang in there Clara Rosa, who knows, there might be a spot open at HQ for someone like you."

Saul concluded by effortlessly squeezing her ass. She was in too much awe to notice him or that he obviously didn't care. He scanned around him waving at the crowd, until his gaze rested on Milla, who now stood stoically, but respectfully.

Saul gave a weak smile.

"Oh Milla, how you've grown into our little army. It seems like only a day ago we picked you up out of the Wastes, broken and lost. Still quiet as ever though, I _hope_ you're not thinking of anything in that pretty head of yours, but what should I worry? From what Rick tells me, you've been doing an awesome job here.

You know what? You can have anything you need from those carts over there, don't worry about my special guards, hell, you can have one of them too! If you _know_ what I mean… Anyways, take care Milla, and don't let that mutation get the best of you."

Rick gave a stiff smile towards her as Saul and he walked away.

Where Saul was flamboyant and had a mood that could change with the weather, Rick was everything his opposite, but he followed him as his leader all the same. To some of the more perceptive slavers it often made them wonder who was controlling whom, but none dared to breathe a word about it.

"Ah, hello! How do _you_ know Saul? You're not _even _a slaver, just, just…"

Saul's magnetic air was immediately burst by the whining voice.

Milla, still angry over the encounter with Saul, snapped back at it's owner, Cali.

"Just what? Huh? Say it, I don't mind. Oh right. I can't, now can I you little bitch? Go ahead and chase after him for all I care. Maybe we'll get a good laugh over it in the end."

Cali stepped back with a defeated scowl.

"_Jeez_, fine then. Just cool your jets. I just was curious, with your contract and all, how he actually recognized you. Even though you're a well, y'know."

Milla gave a sigh, while Smokey looked over. He'd heard her story already before, he'd been there at Saul's gates when she first arrived.

"It was Saul and his personal guards who found my body after a super mutant attack. They were tracking down some escaped slaves for their V.I.P.'s when they found me. They killed the few remaining mutants and took me back to HQ, where I was eventually put to… sale. It was a private auction. I guess I wasn't kitchen slave material, instead I was put in a contract… Saul's own reasons of course, after I had completed my Task."

Cali gave a look of intrigue.

"Oh… You got one of _those_. I heard most slaves don't make it back from them, or they're so fucked up in the head or scared dumb afterwards that they have to be killed since they're useless. If you're this sane still all I can say is, you've got balls, that's for sure. Sorry about earlier I guess."

Milla only stared into the dirt with a grunt.

"Say, you still want to get that drink I mentioned earlier? Come'on, you earned it the way you leveled Black Jack today. Sick perv deserved it, even from someone like you. Besides, you'll get to see that ghoul friend of yours... I've seen the way he looks at you when you leave sometimes. I think he has the hots for you, poor bastard."

She only looked up at Cali and nodded towards the bar.

Milla tried to ignore the spew of dribble that never seemed to cease from the girl's mouth now. She knew that tomorrow it'd all be different and they'd go back to being slaver and slave. But a drink was a drink, after all. She tried not to take the part about Andrew literally either. In her own way, she knew he'd been growing soft on her, but there wasn't any purpose running after it.

Besides, they both knew better, in the end she was still a slave and every day she'd have to serve as was expected. There wasn't room for anything else.


End file.
